Keep Your Enemies Closer I
by Fusion Palace
Summary: Marley and Harper - two girls that are anything BUT alike and absolutely despise each-other. One is the popular it girl, the other a notorious geek. But when both teenagers are reluctantly plunged into an animated universe, and discover that they are the daughters of a nineteenth century King and a Mermaid with legs, they realize that they might just need each-other after all.


_Author's Note: I've always wondered what two completely opposite girls would do if they had nothing but each-other to rely on and, well, this odd little plot just popped up inside my head. _

_Important:__ I will be using British Microsoft Word format, so some spellings and words may vary from your usual vocabulary, if you're an American or are familiar with American-English. Enjoy, and please review! _

**Keep Your Enemies Closer Chapter 1: Sandstones **

'From the top, children - one, two, three go.' A woman wearing pinch-nez glasses with an unpleasant disposition cawed, over the masses of droning students.

Harper sighed – she so blamed her therapist for this mundane torture. But after all, who could blame her parents? Especially when she was insistent that there were fish that could talk and that mermaids existed, it wasn't normal, wasn't it?

She had gotten the hint that if she did not stop telling everyone about her ridiculous theories, then surely she'd be locked in the loony bin. So once she reached twelve, she never had uttered another word about her conversations with intelligent crabs and communities of sea creatures.

Mrs Brown, her choir Professor was stuck in her ways. She was not a force to be meddled with nor taken lightly, quite ancient in appearance with soot grey hair tied back – very in-famous for her strict views on the progression of 'show-business'.

For years she took charge of the pantomimes, plays and musicals that were organized by the school Harper studied at.

Mozart was the order of the day. Her class lulled into a quiet, half sleep-like state, as they were forced to sing boring tunes that never went anywhere beyond the twentieth century.

'Excellent, students – just excellent, class dismissed!' Mrs Brown gave a rare compliment, oblivious to sea of students that were desperate to escape her treacherous prison of routine.

'Miss Baker. A word, please.' Harper winced at the shrillness of Professor Brown's high-pitched voice. The classroom was currently void of any other students, so Harper casually shifted her weight onto a table.

'Get up, Miss Baker,' Mrs Brown commanded, furiously tapping the top of a piano with her long, crimson fingernails in a repetitive rhythm.

'Sorry!' Harper squeaked. She blushed furiously - her eyes were suddenly cast upon her school shoes in embarrassment. She found her tie most interesting, and had begun to fiddle with it – she immediately stopped and raised herself into a standing position, Harper wanted to be taken seriously at least in this confusing situation.

'Frankly, I'm here to ask you – why you've even bothered joining my choir! Your poor performance will certainly affect our placing in the local competition next week,' Mrs Brown asked, her expression was tight, lips pursed into a cursive frown – as though she'd just sucked on a lemon.

'My therapist informed me that it would help lower my stress levels.' Harper shrugged and replied in a monotone drone, although she was seething on the inside.

'Why do you even have a therapist in the first place?' Her professor scoffed quite rudely, her ancient hands wired with wrinkles were clenched like crocodile clips around her paper-bone hips.

'Professor, I live in a Children's Home. If you were bombarded every minute of the day by snot-nosed children or cranky roommates on a daily basis without a moment's peace – wouldn't you go a tad bonkers?' Harper queried, cocking her head to one side and gazing at her teacher with narrowed eyes.

'I deal with children all the time, Miss Baker. Here's a note to your guardian, I expect you to bring your lyrics book back, so I can give it to our newest member.' Mrs Brown reminded with a sigh.

'You've already filled my position? Who's taken my place!?' Harper cried, aghast. Her jaw had virtually dropped to the ground.

'Marley Jones. Quite the performer, I've heard. She'll do marvellously next week -surely she'll get us the first place prize!' Her teacher revealed, gushing and acting quite unlike herself.

Harper's cheeks had begun to burn as red as her hair, green eyes ablaze with fury as she marched out of the classroom. Her hand slapped the door shut, leaving it to dramatically shudder in response to the force of her anger.

Her feet rushed to the nearest cubicle – the girl's bathroom was thankfully quite deserted, since it was after official school hours.

Childishly, she had begun to cry, her face warped into an ugly grimace, as fat tears poured silently from her eyes. She _had_ hated going to choir practice – in fact, she loathed it with an almighty passion.

Harper's voice was acceptable, but she was no Ellie Goulding, or Adele, or anything to be honest. She hated crowds, including performing on stage.

Marley Marie Jones loved the spotlight like it was a second skin. Marley Jones, how she despised that awful excuse of a human being.

Everyone just _adored_ precious Marley, the person every girl wanted to be and every guy wanted to be with – even Simon, her best friend had a major crush on her since the beginning of time.

As if Marley Jones would ever bat an eyelash for him, she had much _better _things to do and was just too _good_ for him.

Harper immediately had gone silent. The bathroom door had swung open with a creak, and she could hear a group of giggling girls enter and head for obviously the mirrors – current residence of the female population of her school.

'I'm as glad as anyone else that you got what you wanted, Marley – truly. But why are you so interested in joining some stupid choir?' A familiar voice queried, the faithful lap-dog was utterly confused.

'If I want to go to a Performing Arts School in London, then I'll need as many extra-curricular activities in my resume as possible.' Marley replied, rummaging through some belongings, in what Harper assumed was some 'chic' designer bag, knowing Marley. Well, she didn't; but that wasn't the point, was it?

Harper's heart soared in fright – dearly she hoped that nobody would notice her presence in the girl's bathroom.

'I'm so glad you replaced that Baker girl, hon - she sounded like a cat in a tumble-dryer with that voice of hers during yesterday morning's assembly!' A companion of Marley's (Charlotte, she guessed) cackled in delight, doing a particularly excellent impression of one of the hyenas Harper had watched on the Discovery Channel before at home.

'Yeah, I know.' Marley effectively yawned, oddly uninterested. _Perhaps she was infatuated with her own reflection? _Harper supposed wildly – after all, it was Marley's goal to ruin her life, why would she pass on the chance to insult her life-long enemy?

Angered, Harper couldn't resist storming through the cubicle door to surprise the scoundrel.

'Eavesdrop much?' Marley sneered, without flinching. Harper straightened her maroon school uniform - her eyes had dangerously narrowed as she edged closer to confront the bitch.

'The bathroom, how clichéd…don't you have some sorority to gossip in? It's highly rude - two faces don't look good on you, Jones!' Harper hissed venomously. Most of Marley's friends shuffled, astounded at being caught red-handed.

'Yours never did in the first place. Green really is not your colour, Baker. Don't you have some cartoons to watch? I heard In the Night Garden's on, I'm sure you wouldn't want to miss that before bedtime.' Marley clucked, sighing as she filed her nails in a cool collect.

'I'm positive you'll be late for your appointment, wouldn't want to miss your STD Scan – I'm sure.' Harper snapped, a triumphant smirk she could not resist revealing crossed her lips.

'How _dare_ you speak to me like that, get out of my bathroom or I'll-' Marley hollered, she had grown to full height – teetering on her high-heels, yet Harper towered over her.

'_Your _bathroom? Ha! I'm disappointed, Jones. Wouldn't think you were low enough, to claim a place where girls dump their sanitary products and have a nice crap.' Harper crooned, her expression had turned into that of mock sympathy and utter disgust.

'Ladies, ladies - what's the _matter_ with you?' A lovely teacher Harper could not recall, cried as she entered, horrified as the two girls were throwing any insults they could think of at each-other.

'She started it!' Both furious teenagers chimed and pointed at the other, glaring.

'Both of you, head to the Headmaster's Office. We need this petty fighting to stop immediately.' The woman ordered sternly, Marley and Harper reluctantly were escorted out and into the corridors.

Thankfully, they were spared the humiliation of being seen dragged to the Head's room by any classmates of theirs – it was embarrassing enough as it was being caught mid cat-fight, over something so trivial as their own loathing of the other.

'I blame you for this.' Marley seethed, once the two girls were left to their own devices, seated in wooden chairs behind an empty yet formidable desk.

Harper was handling some sort of necklace she had bought at a car booth sale she had bought the previous weekend – the seller was a lonely old woman who was strange and smelt of cabbages, her sales included unpopular relics of chipped china and odd trinkets; Harper had bought the eccentric thing because she had felt quite sympathetic for her – people were more interested in the second hand X-Box games and Princess Leia posters that were on sale cheap by more approachable people.

'What is that piece of junk you've got there?' Marley sneered, leaning over to get a closer look at the hunk of jewellery in the girl's hands.

It wasn't…that bad.

The necklace was carved from a delicate sand-stone, moulded into the shape of a seashell – what had caught Harper's interest about it, was the fact that it had her exact name spelt upon it.

'You know, this might be weird – it _is_ weird, but I swear I've got a necklace just like that.' Marley breathed, astonished as she gazed at what Harper was holding.

'You're joking, right?' Harper scoffed, not believing her for a second. 'If you're pulling my leg, I swear I'll-' she snorted, immediately Harper was cut off by Marley.

'I mean it, look!' Marley continued ferociously, reaching for the chain around her neck Harper hadn't noticed before. After un-latching the object, Harper's eyes widened, when her arch nemesis had produced a locket that looked _exactly _the same as her own – save for the name Marley being engraved upon it.

'Bloody hell,' She breathed, silently ogling the trinket. 'Does, does yours open?' Harper asked, curious. She had used every possible method, but try as she might – the thing never opened.

'No, I've tried a million times. I'm pretty stumped myself,' Marley replied, frustrated as the two held out their replica possessions aloft.

Suddenly, the two lockets hummed a quiet tune – a golden glow seemed to seep all over and as if by magic, the chains had tied themselves together and wrapped in a knot around the arms of the teenagers.

'Well shi-' Harper cursed, unable to complete her sentence due to the whirlpool she was forcefully sucked into.

_Author's Note: Well, did you like it? If yes, then review please! If no, then review and get on with your life, instead of hating on someone else's work – I'm sure you've got better things to do…_


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